Gertsamtkunstwerk

Iphigénie en Tauride in the cinema

I am loath to award the title of 'Possibly My Favourite Opera' to any specific work - but I have been using this to describe Iphigénie en Tauride for quite some time now. So, naturally, I found myself down at my local cinema this evening for the live broadcast from New York, and I was not disappointed, even though I had high expectations.

The overture started in a lively fashion, perhaps too lively, and I thought 'oh no, I don't like the pace he's taking this at', but actually, it didn't bother me after that, except for during O malheureuse Iphigénie, which I thought could do with a bit more lingering over those glorious phrases. And generally, I felt that there were insufficient contrasts in tempi during the work, but that is nit-picking.

Before proceedings even started, Peter Gelb walked onto the stage to make an announcement. He hurriedly confirmed that all scheduled singers would perform, but both Miss Graham and Mr Domingo had been suffering from colds, so he said that the - hopefully few (hard stare) - coughs from the audience may be supplemented by some from on stage. (Unfortunately, he didn't also stare and say 'And also from Row D of Clapham Picturehouse, right behind Ms Blog' because that might have shamed the 'gentleman'). And then, delightfully, we heard the evening's host, Natalie Dessay, say over the feed 'I fucked up'. Ooh, I thought, the thrill of live! Which was increased by a very visible camera descending into shot during the overture. But I only noticed one further technical error during the transmission, though I suspected at times they didn't have the sound balance right for the orchestra.

By the time Susan Graham had finished her first phrase, I already had tears in my eyes. What I love more than anything about this opera is the way that the music sounds, I want to hug myself and let the joy flow through my veins and then listen again to what I've just heard, immediately.

I have written at length about this opera before and I see no benefit in repeating what I have said before, because I do not disagree with anything I previously wrote about the work, and I don't think I got any new insights into the music.

Reading over my impressions of when I actually saw it in New York, my great regret was that it was not to be shown in the cinema and thus not captured for posterity. Thankfully it has now been filmed, and most of these seem to find themselves first on USA's PBS and eventually on UK's Sky Arts, so I hope that *even if* there isn't a commercial DVD, I will have this captured to keep and rewatch repeatedly.

I was interested in the camera work. There were considerable number of close-ups, which always comes as a surprise, and especially in a production you've already seen live three times. In some cases they missed a trick with the close-up: for example, I'd have liked longer shots of the fight scenes. They also used overhead shots well, not least when Plácido was lying on the sacrificial altar, waiting to be sacrificed.

All three of the Principals were outstanding: I kept changing my mind about who was the stand-out. To be honest, that really does have to go to Susan Graham. She's never off stage, and she dominates almost every scene. She has the amazing show-stopping aria, O malheureuse Iphigénie. I did wonder momentarily whether she would actually make it to the end (maybe her having a cold influenced the conductor's decision to take it at a relatively fast pace), but she did, and really, vocally, you wouldn't have known she had a cold. And she stole the show with her fabulous Act III aria Je t'implore et je tremble, not just vocally but with such dramatic passion, just at the point where the orchestra was on fire.

I only really know Susan Graham from this role - and from Octavian in last year's Rosenkavalier in the cinema - but I just adore her for it. I don't think there's anyone who approaches her in this role (I don't mean, I've heard loads and compared; I mean she is the obvious first choice for leading opera houses). If I never hear her again, I will always love her, as Iphigénie.

Paul Groves, like Susan, featured in both my London and New York performances, and so I have bundles of affection for him. He was in top form tonight, and my personal highlight from him from the heartfelt beautiful rendition of Unis de la plus tendre enfance, which I have declared to be one of the great love songs, heralding this amazing brotherly or comradely love between the two men.

As for Oreste, Plácido was Plácido. Excellent for a 70 year old with a cold! I did feel that the cold was noticeable at times in Act II, but only because I knew and was being hypercritical. I think what I noticed was a slight inconsistency in tone, but nothing major, and certainly nothing to make me feel that perhaps he should retire. I do worry when he flings himself around stage, up and down, on his knees, perhaps a little less rolling than I've seen him do before in this role. I'm sure he knows what he's doing, so I'm worrying more in theory than practice.

Don't misunderstand me, I thoroughly enjoyed his performance, but in comparing him to the three times I have seen him live in this production and the additional performance I have the audio-only recording, I guess this was the least of them. He was still compelling and mesmerising, vocally gorgeous and dramatically convincing. I love him so much!

Naturally, Susan and Plácido were interviewed immediately the interval started. I'm not going to write up exactly what I remember of the interviews, but it did amuse me, and many of my fellow cinema goers, when he was commenting how he gets to play Susan's brother or her father but never her lover, and he was so endearing - so Plácido-like - there were chuckles!

It was bizarre how during the interview, they had a camera in his dressing room as various people from wardrobe were fussing over him, checking the costume, touching up the make-up and so on. I think it was something that seemed like a good idea but maybe didn't work so well in practice.

All in all, it was thoroughly enjoyable, and I'm tempted to go to the Encore performance tomorrow...today now...but my partner is finishing work early (perhaps in a fit of jealousy) and will be cooking me dinner!

During the interval, they ran trailers for the remaining performances in the Live in HD series. I am tempted to attend all of them. (I've already got a ticket for Die Walkure, assuming it would be sold out). I'll skip on Capriccio but I've actually gone and booked Le Comte Ory, even though I don't like Rossini. Hey, why not!

Considered review of Iphigénie

Have you noticed how all great operas start with a fabulous storm scene? Otello, Die Walküre, Le Nozze di Figaro and Iphigénie en Tauride. Okay, not Nozze, but can you imagine, if Mozart had bothered to start it with a storm scene, it would be a really great opera.

I have had trouble writing this review because I have to keep resisting the temptation to write a long narrative on all the bits of the music that are so amazing, but that would be a poor attempt at a verbal description of great music, which makes no sense to do.

And yet, how can one give a review of a performance of such a great opera without at least acknowledging the greatness of the score, and in more specific terms than just 'it's really ace, you have so got to listen to it loud, over and over again' and then that becomes an 'analysis' of the opera rather than the actual performances I attended.

I thought the orchestral playing was of a high standard. I am still of the view that soundwise, it should be played on instruments of its time, not modern instruments, but as that didn't happen, I was at least grateful for a rendering of the performance that recognises this is of the late 18th, not the late 19th century. And I thought the general interpretation was lively; I really enjoyed the changes in volume and tempi and mood, and got a strong sense of the overall cohesion of the piece.

The production was the same as I saw in New York last year and which I wrote about at some length in the imaginatively titled  Iphigenie en Tauride, at the Met and I also wrote several 'hit-and-run' posts, from outside the Opera House or indeed inside the auditorium (but only when the curtain was down).

I did think that the two performances were very different experiences, but quite a lot of that was down to crowd trouble. On the Monday night the only crowd trouble was that the woman next to me felt it necessary to tell her husband every time Plácido started singing; whereas on the Saturday I endured something similar from the two women behind; a relentless cacophony of coughing louder at times than the orchestra and chorus combined; the inevitable ring of a telephone; the applause of the star as he arrived on stage; and the coup de grace, the premature ejaculation.

Two members of the audience decided to leave the auditorium before the second act had finished. I assume that one of them was ill, because there can be no other reason for walking out on O malheureuse Iphigénie, and I fully understand that sometimes one just has to leave and there isn't a way of doing it discretely. Of course the people in their row had to stand to let them out, and the people behind them stood so as not to have their view blocked. This then led to quite an animated discussion from all around me, no doubt as people either speculated on the reasons for the early departures or else commented on how it was interrupting their enjoyment of the music. When the departing couple eventually reached the aisle, there ensued a full-voiced conversation involving maybe half a dozen or more people. 

I resolved however not to let the distractions around me spoil a performance I had paid a lot of money for (including travel and accommodation). But Tuesday's was altogether better in so many ways.

I wonder if the reason that this opera is so rarely performed is that sounds an utter bastard to sing. I have heard mezzo and soprano in the title role, and baritone and tenor as Oreste and I can't really decide which is better. The ranges of both roles seem so wide that I don't think there is an ideal fit. Pylade doesn't seem any easier, with there being considerable straining and wavering at the top, but I don't think it would suit bel canto-type tenors because although their high notes might be more secure, they would lack colour and resonance in the middle and at the bottom. I think, anyway. And I have now heard Thoas sung by three different basses and not one sounded anything but shouty, which of course underlines what a nasty person Thoas is, but shouty doesn't do it for me.

I was well impressed by Ismael Jordi as Pylade and suspect that we will be hearing a lot more from him in the future. He did seem a bit rough around the edges but I'm sure that will go. And he was quite impressive in the moving about stage and generally being a believable character, without necessarily being that much of a stage animal.

I thought Violeta Urmana was worthy of praise, indeed excellent in places but too screechy in others. And of course she was replaced in the course of Monday's Act III by Jennifer Check. There had been an announcement at the start but the only bit I understood was that 'she will sing'.

The supporting cast did what was required and the chorus sounded very good.

But the main reason I went was for Plácido. Much as I love this opera, I wouldn't travel at considerable cost to hear just anybody in it, and not twice, in the most expensive seats in the house (although not the best, I didn't manage to get seats particularly near the front. But they were fine).

I think my ideal, vocally, would have been the Acts III and IV from Saturday and the Act II from Monday (Oreste and Pylade do not appear until the very end of Act I). As I said in my speedblog, he did seem to take a while to warm up on the Saturday night, really only coming into his vocal gorgeousness after the interval. On the Monday he was vocal gorgeousness from the moment he entered.

I find it quite difficult to write reviews of Plácido. Partly because I have such a high opinion of him, and partly because of who he is, irrespective of my opinion. There are mockers and sneerers who accuse people like me of going to see him perform because of who he is, and imply that, therefore, we are unable to make critical judgement. I have no problem with the idea of enjoying a legend while you can,  even when he is past his peak. I have seen Bobby Charlton play in a charity football match against the Altrincham Bus Garage XI on the Linotype ground. Tony Benn still makes more sense than any other politician even though he is no longer in Parliament. 

But because of my admiration and because of my awareness of his incredible accomplishments, I am also hyper-critical. I can't review Plácido in the same way as I did, say, Ismael Jordi, even though a pedant would argue that there should be no difference in the review.I could have taken contemporaneous notes  and - bear in mind my comment about the parts being bastrads to sing - I could have written down the notes which were less than perfect, especially in Act II Saturday. But, as well as being very sad, it would have completely missed the point.

I called this blog 'Gertsamtkunstwerk' as a silly play on the German word Gesamtkunstwerk - according to Wikipedia

Wagner used the term to refer to an operatic performance encompassing music, theater (sic), and the visual arts, especially where the story was rooted in folk heritage. Wagner felt that in ancient Greek tragedy, these had been fused, but at some point they drifted apart

I don't regard opera as ever been entirely satisfactory as an audio-only experience. Might as well listen to a Song Cycle; it isn't truly opera without the dramatical and visual aspects, too. I adore Plácido's voice but I also adore the way he is on stage. When I watch him, I don't have a thought process of 'Ooh, that's Plácido Domingo - my hero'; instead it's about the character. Some of it is just the basic stuff of moving around stage and making credible gestures and so on.

I like the way he interacts with the other players; so often you see singers who either fail to acknowledge their co-stars, or do so with a series of stock directed and rehearsed gestures. There is more to him than that, though. I spent most of the second half with my binoculars to my eyes observing everything he did, irrespective of whether he was singing or not. Just completely fascinating.

Coincidentally, I was chatting with Stephanie and Maureen at the airport the next day (hello! and hello! to Shirley who I met getting off the Gatwick Express!). Stephanie said how much she had enjoyed watching him even when not singing; Maureen, like me, had not noticed exactly when the soprano had been substituted, being so focused on Plácido. 

I am conscious in theory of his age, but this simply isn't something that comes across on stage. Or hardly. I did notice that he climbed up onto the altar gingerly, but then so would I, and would have done at twenty or whatever. I did also notice that sometimes he seemed to be pacing around stage a bit unevenly. Not quite limping, but it was something that I noticed in Die Walküre at Covent Garden just over a year ago; perhaps a lack of flexibility in the right knee. There again, he spends so much time on the floor, I don't think that it's particular an age thing. I do have to say that in the fight scenes he did look a teensy bit like he wasn't trying. I don't mean that in a bad way, but he wasn't launching himself into armed combat in a Simon Keenlyside-esque way.

However, if for some reason he stopped being so physical on stage, he wouldn't be parking and barking, because he sounds so gorgeous. That is not the voice of someone almost 68. I simply can't describe his voice or what it does to me.

I go to all this effort and expense to travel to hear him sing, taking it as a given that I love his voice. I sit there and I listen and I enjoy, and a thought flashes through my head 'oh,that is so beautiful' and then I remember I have no business being surprised! But during the performance I forget the meta stuff about him being a legend and my hero.

Until the curtain calls, of course.

He gets the loudest applause, and that is partly because of who he is, because many people are attending, maybe have travelled from around Europe (and even beyond) to be there for him. He never plays the superstar, takes his applause and then stands back for Iphigénie to take her bows. Then, of course, there is the series of joint cast bows, which is where the silliness starts. Flowers are thrown form the audience and he gathers from the floor and redistributes them. On Saturday he was tossing them backwards over his shoulder to the ladies of the chorus; on Monday he was flinging them, I'm not sure whether it was into or over the orchestra pit. 

So I definitely enjoyed both performances. And it is difficult to say whether this was more because of Plácido or because of the opera. The music is extraordinary. It was premiered in 1779 and yet much of the music seems fresh and challenging to my ears. I have a notion that if it had been lost for 200 hundred years and rediscovered recently, and performed as if new, it would be labelled as controversial and modern. Even though I am a great fan of the way that composers such as Wagner and late Verdi use the orchestra as something much more profound than mere accompaniment, I hear something special in this opera that I don't hear in anything else especially not from before the 20th century.

Kobbé says:

The dramatic and the sensuous meet in Iphigénie en Tauride  to form  a whole that is more consistent and more expressive than anything Gluck had previously written...homogeneity of style, with whole scenes dominated by a single idea expressed in music of the greatest power...such invention in the individual arias

There will be curtain call pictures, I promise, b ut I am in the process of post-processing over 300 photos taken in the past six weeks or so.

Iphigenie Live Blog

Acts 1 & 2

Iphigenie Acts III and IV

Some photos from Iphigénie en Tauride

I en T again

Half-time report

It's over...

Oreste

or, all one page

Some photos from Iphigénie en Tauride

the roof of the Palau de les Artes Reina Sofia from inside the auditorium

Plácido throws flowers to the Ladies of the Chorus (he had been tossing them nonchalantly over his shoulder)

 

Iphigenie Acts III and IV

Plácido sounded completely gorgeous in  the second half. Overall, I have to say he wasn't at his not inconsiderable best. In Act II in particular, which is so pivotal, he was disappointing compared to how I heard him in New York. But he really did sound gorgeous in Acts III and IV and overall he was fabulous in terms of acting, stage presence, running a dagger across his throat, rolling on the floor, ascending to and descending from an altar, being in chains and flaunting his chest hair.

I have to say that the audience is the worst I have ever encountered in an opera house. Two fat ugly fur-wearing cows sat behind me decided that every time Plácido started singing, they would discuss this. One decided to unwrap a cough sweet, rattle her jewelry and provide a running commentary simultaneously. And to think that some beautiful animal had to die to make her look so ugly. Then there was the mobile phone going off,the constant coughing, the frequent conversations all around. In a shit opera house in a shit city where the food is so crap I'm actually pining for vegetables. Actually we're going into the old city tomorrow, which might be slightly better than this godforsaken dump that resembles Bournemouth on a bad day. A very badly designed opera house that may well look funky from the outside but is seriously rubbish inside. Considering it opened in 2005 you'd have thought they might have provided more than 8 cubicles in the women's loos serving the entire Platea (stalls), and it was pointed out to me that the lift only holds 6 people. It's generally very unaccessible (in terms of people with disabilities moving about and getting there if you don't have a car - it very clearly doesn't welcome people from out of town), the acoustics are crap, the refreshment offer is a joke,  the audience is made up of ostentatious peasants in fur coats. It's like sticking an international opera house in Derby or somewhere. I seriously wouldn't recommend going there unless you are really desperate to hear a particular singer

But the performance was excellent. I was really really knocked out by the orchestra, head and shoulders above the New York one a year ago, and the performers were, well, Violeta Urmana and Ismael Jordi did not erase memories of Susan Graham and Paul Groves whom I had the privilege to hear in two different productions with very different musical interpretations last year. As I say Plácido was not at his best, although there was one bit in where I just reacted physically to his gorgeous voice and was so glad I was there. He seemed to be a bit subdued, a bit phlegmy at times, as if he's succumbed to the coughing  that is clearly in pandemic mode round here.

Overall though, the winner was Christophe Willibard Gluck closely followed by Patrick Fournillier who worked marvels with the stick. And it is a lovely production - Stephen Wadsworth - even though I still think the ballet is a hilarious fusion of Cossack and Morris Dancing.

Oh, and no report from the Stage Door,  because there isn't a stage door, just vehicular access via a tunnel under the road.

Iphigenie en Tauride, at the Met

I didn't know this opera at all four months ago. So it was little short of lunacy to book myself, and then also Jimmy, a ticket, to go and see it, not at the opera house a bus ride away, but at one three and a half thousand miles away. As it happened, I already had a DVD, purchased as part of the seemingly ongoing Del Prado part works of Opera on DVD. Plus, I had also purchased a ticket for the Royal Opera house's production (jointly with Chicago and San Francisco) of the same opera, with some of the same cast, but not, crucially Oreste.

So, by the time the Met production opened I was not entirely unfamiliar with the opera, having in the interim downloaded two more recordings off t'internet. I did consider listening to the opening night over the web, but it was on at 1 am my time, midweek, at a time when my body was instructing me to go to bed at 8 pm (and then wake up at 5 am, but never mind that...), and there seems to be no way to set up a timed recording from the Met's streaming. So, it was only five days before Departure Day that I got to listen to this particular version, when it was broadcast on various radio stations, including BBC Radio 3 as part of the Met Broadcast season. And then I couldn't stop listening over and over again. There is a fundamental flaw in repeat listenings to a live recording, mainly that every mis-step is implanted in the brain just as surely as the music. By mis-step I mean all the things picked up by the, reportedly, very close miking, including the wheezing of the conductor, the overloud prompter, stage noise, audience noise and so on. At least I was able to satisfy myself that it was likely to be a very good performance, at least vocally, although considering the situation of my seat I was a bit worried that things like the wheezing conductor and shouting prompter might encroach on my ears, live. I also already knew that this was going to be no period interpretation, unlike at Covent Garden when it was the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment playing on proper old-fashioned instruments. In actual fact, the presence of modern instruments bothered me less in practice than it did in theory, with the strings in particular giving a vigorous work-out and abandoning the slushy 19th century approach. I did miss the period oboe though, at one key point.

I have to confess that I am thoroughly confused about the difference between the versions for Oreste as a baritone and as a tenor, and short of sitting down with both scores, or playing excerpts, almost phrase for phrase, I don't think I can work it out. Still, with baritone Keenlyside straying into tenor rep, and tenor Domingo veering to baritone, I would love to have an analysis of the crucial differences between their respective fachs.

So, I arrived at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center NY NY way way too early but in plenty of time to pick up tickets (and additionally purchase more for the next day's Romeo et Juliette).  I took my seat just minutes before the curtain was due to go up,. becoming increasingly excited, and also nervous. But so far, no suggestion that he would cancel, and why should he, but you know, I live in fear of sod's law. I assess my seat, Row A of Orchestra, not bad, not bad at all. A bit to the left, which was slightly disappointing, but I had perfect sight lines. I was next to the double basses and in line with the harpsichord.

The curtain rose, for some reason it was a red curtain, not the usual mustard-coloured one that is so familiar from videos and they seem to insist on calling 'gold'. I was utterly disappointed at the total absence of Applause for the Scenery, despite me being in the opera house that is known internationally as The Place Where They Applaud the Scenery. There are some wonderful photographs of the production which, together with the recording of the Met broadcast, will serve as a memento. To me it's a crying shame that this wonderful performance was omitted from the simulcast schedule and thus not committed to video. I see no indication whatsoever that Plácido is going to sing this role again, anywhere, but I fervently hope he does,  and preferably in Europe.

I have now reached the stage where I think that this opera is quite possibly up there in my Top Ten. I am so very unfamiliar with the work of Gluck -  a couple of years ago I attended the (would you believe it?) UK premier of his La Clemenza di Tito and was stunned by its gorgeousness. But Iphigenie en Tauride is even more gorgeous. I would go so far as to say that Act II is as good as any other act in any other opera.

Of course, there is a clue in the title as to who the main character is, Iphigenie, played by Susan Graham, who never left the stage during the entire performance. The other two main characters are Pylade (tenor, Paul Groves) and Oreste (baritone, tenor,whatever, Plácido Domingo). And there are some other minor characters, too.

So, the set was divided into three. Approximately two-thirds consisted of the temple, with an altar and a statue of Diana dominating, this is where the action in Act I and for most of Acts III and IV happened. Another approximate third, which was in front of me,was the prison cell where I ought to have known Oreste and Pylade would be held. The balance was to my extreme left and seemed to serve no purpose except as a place where guards and dancers etc distracted from the main action.

It was not actually until Act II, when the blokes were flung into jail that it suddenly dawned on me - directly in front of me, not more than a few feet away, my view totally unrestricted , Plácido Domingo was singing whilst rolling around the floor in chains. I'm not a bondage freak by any means, but trust me, opera doesn't get any better than that (insert big grin!). Remember, I was on Row A of Orchestra. This was pretty much the view I got.  He spent a lot of time rolling around on the floor, falling to the floor, and on his knees on the floor. Looking at him throwing himself round stage, and, especially, listening to this unbelievably gorgeous voice, I did have this thought 'I can't believe he's 67 next month' and then I thought 'so what, just enjoy what is before your eyes and ears'. And actually, as is so often the case, I didn't really spend a lot of time thinking 'That's Plácido Domingo right in front of me' compared to the amount of time I was thinking 'This Oreste is bloody good'. And time and again it happens, despite me being so familiar with his voice, I hear a sound that is breathtaking in its beauty, a phrase that makes me subconsciously think 'does singing get any more beautiful than this?'. Not that he was going for constant beauty of tone; there was as much drama as beauty. Especially in the Mad Scene when he's being played by Klytemnestra's Furies. (Jimmy said he was wearing kneepads, I can't say I noticed but Jimmy is motivated by grudge or jealousy or something...). I have to say though, that I was concerned about his chest hair. I wasn't sure whether he had shaved it, or covered it with lots of make up, but it didn't seem as prominent as it had done in Die Walkure or, indeed, in the photos on the Met site (which I guess were taken at the Dress Rehearsal).

Impressed as I was by Plácido, it would not be fair to attend this and not heap praise on Susan Graham. Once or twice, it seemed that she was struggling to hit a couple of high notes, but that didn't in anyway diminish a wonderful performance, vocally and dramatically. Fiendishly  difficult passages, a range of emotions coming out in her vocal acting, and an utterly convincing stage performance that never had me thinking 'that's Susan Graham' but always 'Iphigénie'. And Paul Groves also gave an excellent performance, a sweet voice, and whilst not an overwhelming stage presence, he certainly impressed.

Also worth mentioning was Diana as played by Michele Losier. Completely stunning in appearance, she had two moments in the opera, at the start and at the end. Both times she descended to the stage on a wire, the first time, she managed to take Iphigenie away with her (as they flashed back to events fifteen years earlier) and at the end she got to fondle Oreste, not that I was jealous, of course not. She sounded good and looked stunning, a bit Goth in her get-up and drop dead gorgeous. Jimmy claims that at the curtain call, Plácido grabbed her, but I think he's just making that up, motivated by grudge and jealousy, because I never noticed and I didn't take my eyes off Plácido in the curtain call.

The low point of the opera was the choreography of the dance in between Acts I and II. At one stage it seemed like the bastard offspring of the worst of Cossack dancing and the best of morris dancing, if that doesn't imply that Morris dancing has a 'best', which it doesn't. That was a shame because the personenregie was excellent (helped no doubt by the presence of excellent acting singers).

Although I was disappointed by the absence of Scenery Applause, I was delighted that a smattering of people in the audience applauded when Plácido made his entrance, regardless of the through-composed nature of the opera. Because that's another thing 'they' do at the Met - but I was a bit disappointed it was isolated culprits, not the audience as a whole ;-)

I didn't go backstage or whatever to meet Plácido afterwards. I had thought about it and decided not to, despite so many people saying that he would be delighted to see me, having travelled from London. It struck me after Die Walkure that there's actually a conflict in my mind.  Seeing him on stage, not just because he's so good in that particular performance, but because of his legendary status, is a special treat. However, because he is such an approachable, down-to-earth, likeable person, with a total absence of divo mannerisms, it almost breaks the spell of him being a Legend, because he doesn't have the attitude of a Legend.

Particularly because I was in a strange city and a strange opera house, I thought it would be nice, for a change, to be in a position where he's not that nice man who is so approachable and affable post-performance but an exalted Legend appearing at the Exotic and Legendary Metropolitan Opera House. I would respect and like him less if he was any different personality-wise, yet conversely, because he's so nice, it does break the spell of the performance slightly. It even struck me the next day, when he took to the podium to conduct, appearing avuncular or maybe grandfatherly was a big big contrast from how I had previously seen him, as a warrior king (albeit in a dodgy wig).

I realise that this review is impressionistic. It's difficult to remember every detail, now at eight days' remove, and on just one viewing. I am terribly disappointed that this won't be available on video. I don't think I shall ever forget the impact of the performance, but with the inevitable ravishes of time, the clarity of my memory will fade. I suppose it was a pretty brave decision of him to take a new route in his career like this. He has nothing to prove, and potentially a lot to lose. But it was also a clever decision, I think the role suited his voice perfectly and his dramatic impersonation was lacking nothing. I realise it's entirely unfair to make comparisons with Simon Keenlyside, who was obviously under the weather when I saw him in this, but of the two performances, I would rate Plácido's above Simon's.

Iphigenie en Tauride

I saw this at Royal Opera House on Thursday night.

Definitely one of those operas that one regrets is so short, barely two hours of music. But top class.

I wonder why so Gluck is so under-rated, almost to the point of obscurity, when everything I have heard by him (albeit a grand total of four operas) is so wonderful.

For some reason I always think of Gluck as being Baroque, perhaps because he used recitative. But then, so did Mozart, and he is definitely regarded as classical. And the references seem to regard Gluck as classical, the opera pioneer of the Classical era.

Iphigénie en Tauride is without a doubt the gayest opera I have seen. And when I say 'gay' I don't mean happy-in-an-old-fashioned way nor do I meant lame/pathetic in a pre-teen way. I mean gay as in homosexual. Although my friend - who insists that every opera has a gay sub-text, usually evident in the music - reckons that this production did not focus much on the gay thing, leaving it ambiguous. I suppose she is right, in that the actual production wasn't very gay, but it didn't need to be, because the opera, despite the title, and despite the fact that the mezzo has the largest portion of singing to do, is really a love story between two men. They refer to each other as 'friends' but that is merely a sop to 18th century sensibilities. Remember they are Ancient Greeks. The synopsis is available on ROH site and wikipedia, but as it based on a play by Euripides I expect everyone knows the story anyway .

Musically it is packed full of treats, not a moment of superfluity, a through-composed work with some extraordinary passages. The highlights are Pylade's love song to Oreste, Oreste's mad scene, and Iphigénie's long anguished soliloquy towards the end.

The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, guest pit band, were ace. I loved the tone, the crispness and clarity, under stick-waver Ivor Bolton who seemed like a man transformed from the lacklustre Don Giovanni I had caught him conduct in the summer.

Top marks must go to Susan Graham. I had never heard her live before, but on the basis of this, I am rather eager to hear her again, preferably in this role. Oh my word, I shall, in December. A powerful inhabitation of the role vocally and dramatically, full command of the stage. And a wonderful display of extremely florid singing that always threatened to go totally out of control but was in fact an exercise in perfect control. Paul Groves was largely satisfactory as Pylade, with the exception of some strain on higher notes. A more than competent stage performer, just overshadowed by his co-stars. I would certainly like to hear him again, preferably in this role. Oh my word, I shall, in December.

Simon Keenlyside was Oreste, and, strangely, this was first time I have seen him in an entire staged opera*. On the whole he did not disappoint. He is a very physical, lithe stage actor and a splendid singer, and for the most part I thoroughly enjoyed his singing. Except there was a point during his mad scene where he was wide of pitch, both sharp and flat, and decidedly hoarse, cracking as if he was choking. I don't know how much this was to do with the fact that he was lying on his back with his head in the orchestra pit, but I have not heard reports of such a thing occurring on opening night, so I put it down to "one of those things". He displayed some hoarseness in the second half, too, so I assume he probably had a cold or some such. Although I largely enjoyed his performance, I am not disappointed that I will not be seeing him in this role in December. Nothing personal! It will be interesting to hear the differences between a light baritone and a baritenor in the role.

I really liked the production. I have seen a few comments from people round the internet who described it as tosh. Maybe I am perverse but I enjoy productions where it doesn't necessarily make sense.

It was extremely monochrome, with all the characters being dressed in black, and there was very little in the way of scenery, especially no furniture to abuse. The set consisted of walls and a sacrificial altar that rose from descended into the floor as required. No gimmicks such as "Ooh, we have a turntable stage so let's use it."

The walls were undecorated except that at various points, the names of Iphigenie, Oreste, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra appear in chalk and are periodically removed by water. It was not a brightlylit set,with most of the action taking place in darkness. Very noir. It was highly stylistically choreographed, at various times the crowd scenes danced through a routine of stabbing each other with imaginary swords and falling down dead, and during Oreste's mad scene he was lifted up by the chorus of Temple Priestesses and enabled to walk along the wall whilst lying horizontal on the arms of the priestesses. I am not sure of the point of that except to illustrate "This is Simon Keenlyside, he can do this." For those who take note, he remained resolutely fully clothed, refusing to live up to his nickname of "Shirtless", although he did removed his shoes and socks in preparation for being sacrificed, as one does.

At the end the goddess Diana appears as a deus ex machina. She sung her aria from inside the dome at the very top of the opera house. I have heard of this being done but never experienced it before. It seemed pretty effective to me.

This is due to be broadcast on Radio 3 on 6 October and I would definitely recommend tuning in, although it will inevitably lose something being audio only. I suppose it's not an opera that would necessarily attract people with only a passing interest, people who would be inclined to pick one or two warhorses to see in a season, but it really is so engaging and irresistible,with lovely tunes intelligently orchestrated, a love duet, a mad scene and so on.

Interview with Simon Keenlyside

A beautiful simplicity - some background to Gluck and this opera.

Review - 3 stars

A stark masterpiece made more difficult - damned by faint praise.

3 star review

2 star review, production hated by the critic.

Off with the trousers - interview with Susan Graham.

Interview with Simon Keenlyside

Review

Review

Susan Graham: 'I just love singing French music...It captured my imagination early on.'

* I walked out when he was in Pelleas et Melisande, nothing to do with him or his fellow cast members...

La clemenza di Tito

It seems quite a long time ago that I went to Gluck's La clemenza di Tito in a concert performance at St John's Smith Square, a venue so close to my workplace it's actually closer to the main entrance than my desk is!

It's not a well-known work, indeed, reportedly, it was the British premiere, even though he lived in the Eighteenth century. Clemenza struggles to get a mention in the first few hits thrown up by Google. His most famous work is (probably) Orfeo ed Euridice, from which comes the well-known Dance of the Blessed Spirits and  Che faró senza Euridice.

I thought it was really quite delightful, quite gorgeous music for a lovely summer's evening in a light and airy venue. It was performed by The Classical Opera Company and the Classical Ensemble conducted by Ian Page. There were six soloists, five sopranos, all on the young side, and one tenor.

Sesto - Marlene Grimson
Vitellia - Klara Ek
Annio - Arlene Rolph
Tito - Nigel Robson
Servilia - Rebecca Bottone
Publio - Sophie Bevan (so young she's still at University...!)

OF the singers, Klara Ek was undoubtedly the star. A strong, powerful voice, yet capable of lovely pianos. Although she obviously tired towards the end, it was a triumphant performance. All of the singers were pleasant to listen to, although I liked Nigel Robson les than the sopranos, all of whom I would be happy to hear again.

Structurally, it consisted of recitative followed by aria, which just the closing number being a 'chorus' of all six soloists. The stand-out aria is Se mai senti spirarti sul volto, of which you can hear a tantalising excerpt - or, indeed buy - Cecilia Bartoli's Gluck - Italian Arias

Obviously, never having heard the opera before, I really can't comment on matters on interpretation, but I don't even have to pretend to be knowledgable. It would be pleasant to hear it again, although I'm not sure I would rush out and buy it on CD. And I'm not sure that it would benefit much from being staged - like Mozart's more famous version, it suffers from not having much of a story.

I do not disagree with Andrew Clements' verdict in the Guardian.